


just another boy without a crown

by kadaransmuggler



Series: life of the party [3]
Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Custom Ryder - Freeform, Falling In Love, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Injuries, Multi, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Pregnancy, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Trans Pregnancy, Trans Ryder, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2019-05-29 01:19:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15061919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kadaransmuggler/pseuds/kadaransmuggler
Summary: Atlas Ryder doesn't know what kind of man Reyes Vidal really is, but he'd let him break his heart anyway.





	just another boy without a crown

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to solstheimart for being such an amazing partner for this year's MEBB- it really made the whole Big Bang awesome. This fic is close to my heart and the art is amazing, so be sure to give their art some love!  
> Artist Link: http://solstheimart.tumblr.com/post/175348477261/justanotherboywithoutacrown  
> Recommended listening: "The Last of the Real Ones" by Fall Out Boy. I don't usually do this, but this song is everything I wanted to portray about the romance between Atlas and Reyes.

                This is how it begins: a boy walks into a bar, and the whole damn planet feels like it is holding its breath in anticipation of what it is to come. A boy walks into a bar, and the only thing he knows is the name of his contact, scribbled on a piece of paper so he doesn’t forget, even with the AI in his head to remind him. He leans against the counter, half watching the door and half watching a krogan try to extort the barkeep. The asari pulls a knife, slamming it into the counter, and Atlas has a crooked grin on his face when a man walks up to him, a swagger in his step that says I’m important, and I know it.

                “You look like you’re waiting for someone,” the man says, and it’s the beginning of something that won’t be named for a long while.

                “I’ve got time for a drink,” Atlas answers, as the man holds out one of the glasses, and later he will tell people that it tasted like possibilities and new beginnings and dozens of equally cheesy descriptors. It wouldn’t be them though, not without cheesy and complicated.

                “Shena,” the man says, by way of introduction, and then he lets himself look at the man standing before him. Neither of them had been briefed on the other, but the boy leaning against the bar with a crooked grin on his face has been making waves in the Helius cluster since he woke up from cryosleep. “But you can call me Reyes,” he says, and the grin on his face is a glimmer of possibilities. It’s nothing more than a shadow of the grin that Atlas will come to love, but it is there and it is enough to make him want more. They leave their drinks at the bar and make their way to the window, both of them leaning on the ledge and looking out over the wild expanse of Kadara.

                “You work for the Initiative. Sloane was part of the Uprising. I don’t think she’ll give him up easily,” Reyes says, and Atlas turns his gaze from the horizon and to the man standing beside him. His grin is predatory and sharp, and there’s something that flashes in his eyes. He hadn’t thought he’d be good at this Pathfinder bullshit his father signed him up for, but Kadara was wild and untameable and there was something like that in him, too.

                “I’ll get him. With or without her permission,” he promises, because he has a job to do and he isn’t the type to let something get in his way. The death of his father hadn’t stopped him, and the lack of approval of a two-bit criminal won’t either. Not that he thinks the Nexus Rebellion is so black-and-white. He wasn’t there, and for all he knows Sloane Kelly could be a damned hero. It still won’t stop him, though.

                “We’re going to be friends, you and I,” Reyes says, laughter woven into his voice, their shoulders brushing, and Atlas knows he’s got someone waiting just outside the bar. Liam is probably shifting impatiently, wishing for all the world that he had a gun on his belt if they have to be in this port of criminals. The thing between them is new, almost frighteningly so, and he wouldn’t jeopardize that, not for anything in the Andromeda galaxy, but the smuggler standing across from him is pretty enough for flirting that doesn’t mean anything. He’ll talk to Liam about it, too, ask him if it makes him uncomfortable. If it does, he’ll stop, if doesn’t, well, flirting could be fun.

                “Just friends?” he asks, innocently. He doesn’t mean anything by it, not really, not yet, but Atlas has always liked looking.

                “You never know, Pathfinder,” he returns, and when he walks away he gives him a wink over his shoulder. Well, that didn’t tell me how to contact him, but I’ll figure something out, Atlas thinks. He transfers the credits over to the barkeep, telling her to keep the change over his shoulder as he steps into the brilliant light of the Kadaran sunset.

                “How’d it go?” Liam asks, his eyes more gold in the light of the setting sun.

                “We should talk to Sloane Kelly. It might not go well when we do,” he answers, stuffing his hands into the pocket on his hoodie.

                “Well,” Liam says, squaring his shoulders, “we should get to it. There’s a food stand around here somewhere. I was thinking maybe we could eat local today.” They fall into step together, something that is easy and familiar, their shoulders brushing as they walk.

                “Well, well. Are you asking me on a date, Kosta?” he drawls, and the dance between them is something familiar enough that each of them can fall into step without missing a beat.

                “Maybe I am, Pathfinder,” he returns, his voice getting just deep enough to send every word down Atlas’ spine like a shiver.

                “Well, I think I might be inclined to say yes. Only with you, though,” he says, and the two of them look at each other like they’re sharing a decades old private joke.

                “Then I’d say we definitely need to get this meeting with Kelly out of the way,” he says, bumping shoulders with the boy beside him, and Atlas’ grin is brilliant.

                “Of course. But who has time for Pathfinding when the galaxy’s hottest man is asking me on a date?” he replies, laughing. He wonders how they could have spent so long dancing around this thing between them. He wonders how Cora was able to stand it.

                Liam leaves him at the entrance, his gold eyes bright as the sun starts to slip below the horizon, the sky stained red. Atlas leaves him with a kiss pressed to his lips, soft and gentle and over too soon, but the warmth lingers long after he’s gone.

* * *

                The meeting does not go well, and Atlas stalks back out into the dying rays of sunlight. Liam is waiting by the door, but Reyes is waiting a little farther off, and he raises up his hand as he shouts a greeting. Atlas sighs, glancing over at Liam.

                “Go ahead,” he says, a grin on his mouth, and so he marches over to the smuggler.

                “Have a nice chat?” Reyes asks, a cocky grin on his face as he crosses his arms over his chest.

                “No, not really, so I’m hoping you have a backup plan,” he says, kicking at a rock on the ground. By the time he has finished his talk with Reyes, he has access codes on his omni-tool, a vial of acid in his pocket, and a rescue mission underway.

                “So, I’m guessing dinner is a no for now,” Liam says, walking over to him. Atlas’ shoulders slump.

                “For now, unfortunately,” he answers, even though he’d like nothing more than eating too-greasy food with the crisis response specialist.

                “I’ll go by and pick something up for you. We can eat together later on the _Tempest_ ,” he promises, a soft smile on his face.

                “Good. I think that’ll be the only thing to get me through this bullshit,” he mumbles, and he’s struck again by the way the light illuminates the gold in Liam’s eyes. They’re the color of honey, right now, and Atlas thinks he’d like nothing more than spending time seeing how they change with the shifting light.

                “I’ll see you tonight, Pathfinder,” Liam says, and Atlas watches him as he turns and jogs away, his hands stuffed into his pockets  as he wishes he could follow. He waits until he’s been lost in the crowd before he turns around and heads through the maintenance shaft. 

* * *

                The only thing the jailbreak gives him is a trail to follow into the badlands. The sun has well and truly set by now, though, and Atlas feels a headache throbbing between his temples. “I’ll go first thing tomorrow,” he says, and then he makes a beeline for the _Tempest_. His clothes leave a scattered line from his doorway to his shower, and the hot water gives some much-needed relief to his aching muscles. His omni-tool chimes as he steps out, water dripping onto the floor as he reaches for a towel. He wraps it around his waist and pulls the interface up, walking into his bedroom.

                RV: So how did everything go, Pathfinder?

                AR: it was...not the most productive thing ever

                AR: got the intel i need, but i also have to set out into the badlands first thing tomorrow

                RV: starting to feel like a wild goose chase, huh?

                AR: yeah

                AR: reyes, do me a favor

                RV: i don’t do anything involving children or animals

                RV: sorry. go ahead.

                RV: it was funnier in my head

                AR: i laughed by all right

                AR: anyway

                AR: if anyone asks you to be a pathfinder or anything even remotely similar

                AR: look them in the eyes and tell them to go to hell

                RV: tough job?

                AR: maybe it’d be easier if i’d been trained

                RV: i’m sensing a story

                AR: oh, there’s definitely one there

                AR: maybe i can tell you over the drinks you owe me

                RV: i look forward to it.

                RV: and my apologies for that, by the way.

                RV: i’m usually the perfect gentleman.

                AR: and why don’t i believe that?

                RV: perhaps because i’m lying.

                AR: that’s usually how it is with the pretty ones

                RV: you think i’m pretty?

                AR: oh please

                AR: i have eyes

                AR: you’re definitely one of the finest things kadara has on offer

                AR: probably the finest, actually

                AR: the lakes of acid aren’t that great

                RV: thank you, pathfinder. i think.

                RV: anyway, the acid lakes aren’t that bad.

                RV: at least it isn’t a desert world. or an ice world. or the nexus. 

                AR: you know what?

                AR: i think you’re right.

                AR: maybe kadara and i will get on just fine

* * *

                Liam walks through the door as Atlas pulls a shirt out of his dresser.

                “Are you sure you need that?” he asks, sitting bags down on the table before flopping onto the couch, his legs dangling off the side.

                “I could be persuaded to leave it off,” he answers, his crooked grin back on his face. He glances back at the shirt in his hands- it’s the Blasto shirt, again, because he wears it as much as he thinks he can get away with.

                “Would a greasy space burger convince you?” Liam asks, a small, slow grin on his face. He looks at home stretched out on Atlas’ too-new couch.

                “No, but the man offering it can,” he says, and he lets the shirt fall back into the drawer, revelling in the way Liam’s eyes trace the muscles of his chest. He lets his eyes drift to the Kadara’s landscape as he walks over to the couch, staring at the stars twinkling in the sky. He’d forgotten how much he missed being planetside.

                The moan he lets out when he bites into the burger is obscene, and he doesn’t miss the way Liam’s cheeks go red. The burger is too good to pretend to care, though, even if it is synthetic meat, and he spends a solid minute savoring the damn thing.

                “Oh my god,” he groans, and Liam laughs at him, a fry halfway to his mouth. He tosses it at Atlas, instead.

                “Do you need some time alone with that?” he asks, and Atlas doesn’t think he’s ever been so content as he is now, in the warmth of his bedroom, his cheeks starting to hurt from how much he’s grinning. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt as much at home as he does in this moment.

                “No. But some alone time with you wouldn’t be so bad,” he said, giving him a wink.

                “You have ketchup on your chin, you dork,” Liam says, chuckling, and Atlas laughs so hard he has to put the burger down. 

* * *

                Kadara is beautiful, even with the lakes of acid. Atlas leaves with Cora and Liam early enough that they are treated to the sight of the sun rising over the badlands, illuminating everything in a red-gold light. He stands on the hill for a long moment, one hand on the Nomad, and he just looks.

                “It’s beautiful,” he breathes, and he thinks it might be prettier than that place on Earth he’d always run to when things got to be too much.

                “So are you,” Liam tells him, his gloved hand resting on the small of Atlas’ back, and he likes to think he can almost feel the heat of his palm through the armor.

                “Charmer,” he answers, the grin slipping back onto his face. Liam shrugs in response before helping Atlas into the Nomad. Cora’s already sitting in the driver’s seat, looking way too perky for the time of morning that it is.

                Atlas curls up in the back, his eyes gritty from exhaustion. He hadn’t slept well, last night, after a message from Evfra. It had contained nothing more than dozens of reports on kett activity. There were so many places that needed his help and only so much he had to give them. It felt like the weight of all he had to do was suffocating him. There were half a dozen fires to be put out on Kadara alone, and every single one of them requiring the Pathfinder.

                “Hey,” Liam murmurs, his voice low enough only Atlas can hear him as he sits next to him, close enough that they’re touching, their armor clanking together whenever the trail gets too rough.

                Atlas acknowledges him with nothing more than a low noise in the back of his throat, even though he wants nothing more than to curl up against him. He knows from experience that the hard plates of armor are unfairly uncomfortable.

            “You seem like you’re having a tough time. I just wanted to remind you that you’ve got this. You’re doing great, Atlas,” he murmurs, a gloved hand reaching up to angle Atlas’ face towards his own as he presses a gentle kiss to his lips.

       “It doesn’t seem like I am. It doesn’t feel like I’m making a damn bit of difference,” he grumbles, but he leans into his touch like he’s starved for it.

      “I know. But you’re doing a lot. You’re getting us an alliance with the angara. You’ve settled two golden worlds, and I have no doubt that you can settle Kadara too,” he says, a faint smile on his face. He holds Atlas as close as he can, trying to give him any comfort he could.

      “I just hope we can kick the Archon’s face in soon,” he sighs, and then he gives in and curls around Liam as much as he’s able. Their armor presses uncomfortably against him but he’s willing to endure a little discomfort, even when a particularly large bump makes him smack his cheek against Liam’s chestplate.

      “If anyone can, it’s you. You managed to rescue the Moshae, after all,” he murmurs, and Atlas smiles reluctantly.

                “Couldn’t have done anything without you, Kosta,” he says, and he links their fingers together. This is another one of those moments that he wants to live in forever, wants to bottle up this soft and warm and safe feeling so he has it for the rest of his life.

                Liam is smiling when he presses another kiss against Atlas’ lips, and he’s still smiling when Cora pointedly clears her throat in the front seat. Atlas’ laughter follows them over the rolling hills of Kadara.

 

* * *

                It’s easy enough to dig up the device the angara had buried, and it looks unharmed. The early morning sky is one of the most beautiful things that Atlas has ever seen, but he’s too damned tired to appreciate it. He feels like he hasn’t gotten enough sleep since he woke up from the cryo-pod, and he feels it in his bones. Andromeda has done a pretty good job of chewing him up so far.

                “Gil would have the best luck with this, back on the _Tempest_ ,” SAM says, and Atlas’ lips twist down into a frown. He’s only partially joking- if he’d known this would be all there was to this little quest he would have stayed in bed a lot longer.

                “Did I really get up at the ass-crack of dawn, drag my ass all the way out here, just to get told to go back to my goddamn ship?” he grumbles, but it’s exaggerated enough that Cora laughs, punching him on the shoulder.

                “Don’t tell me the Pathfinder is defeated by the concept of getting up at a normal time,” she says, and Atlas’ frown deepens almost comically.

                “Cora. I am a twenty-two year old man. If I’m awake before noon, it’s too damned early,” he says, so serious that it brings a grin to Cora’s face.

                “I believe in you, kid. Anyway, if you want to spend some time in Kadara, I can take this back to Gil and brief him,” she offers, laughter still glittering in her eyes. Atlas pauses, resting one hand against the Nomad as he lets his gaze drift towards the horizon.

                The other planets had been beautiful, especially Havaral, but there was something about Kadara that called to him. It was a different kind of beauty, something wild and untameable and close enough to Earth that it almost hurt. It reminded him of home while simultaneously reminding him just how far away he really was.

“Yeah,” he says, after a minute, “I think I’d like that.”

* * *

Liam goes back to the _Tempest_ with Cora. They leave Atlas at the nightclub on the outskirts of the port, Liam pressing a kiss to Atlas’ cheek. “See you around, handsome,” he says, his hand lingering in Atlas’ for an extra heartbeat before they’re gone.

Atlas is still smiling when he heads inside. He sees Reyes sitting at the bar, a glass full of whiskey in front of him. His back is turned to him, and Atlas is always one to take opportunities when they present themselves.

“Is this seat taken?” Atlas asks, sliding into it anyway, and Reyes looks up with a start before his face warms with recognition.

“Pathfinder. I had hoped to see you again soon,” he answers, and he swivels his stool until he’s just a little closer to facing him entirely.

“It’s nice to know you’re thinking about me,” Atlas says, a cocky grin slipping onto his face, and Vidal rolls his eyes.

“I seem to make the mistake of mixing business and pleasure all too frequently,” Reyes murmurs, his finger tracing the rim of the glass.

“Sounds like you need me. What for?” he asks, motioning to the bartender to get him a glass of whiskey too. It feels like a glass-of-whiskey conversation.

“There’s been a string of murders here in Kadara. The most recent victim is still in the market,” he answers, like the words taste sour in his mouth.

“Sloane isn’t doing anything about it?” Atlas asks, frowning.

“People suspect the Charlatan,” Reyes tells him. Atlas doesn’t know much about the Charlatan- only rumors, and the fact that whoever it is is has made an enemy of Sloane.

“I’ve heard about the Charlatan,” he says, instead, his voice even. Reyes chuckles, and Atlas thinks this probe for information might have worked on someone who wasn’t a criminal for a living.

“I’m sure you have, Pathfinder. Tell me something, though. Are you trying to set up an outpost on Kadara?” Reyes asks, knocking back the rest of his whiskey. Atlas frowns, hesitant to answer. Everything that’s happened on Kadara has been one big power play up until this point, and he’s starting to get doubts about who he should trust.

“I am, yeah. The Initiative needs more outposts, and the Initiative also needs to reconcile with the exiles. Even an unstable alliance is better than nothing. We’re all we’ve got out here. We shouldn’t keep fighting over whatever uprising happened when people were desperate,” he says, and he’s a little surprised at how much he believes this. He keeps seeing his father, telling him that the Alliance has no place for the kind of wide-eyed idealism Atlas represents, but the Initiative isn’t the Alliance and Andromeda isn’t the Milky Way. There’s no sense in making the same mistakes when they’ve been given a fresh start.

“That’s...a noble goal, Pathfinder,” Reyes says, mouth curling up around the edges.

“I do my best,” Atlas says, and his trademark easy grin slips onto his face.

“I’ll do whatever I can to support you and your outpost. I don’t think any of us will have a lot of faith in the Initiative, but maybe we can put our trust in you. You haven’t let us down yet,” he says, something warm and soft in his voice.

“No pressure, though, right?” Atlas says, and Reyes throws his head back and laughs, a sound that makes warmth bloom in the pit of Atlas’ stomach.

* * *

Atlas leaves Tartarus and makes for the _Tempest_. He’s got a nav-point on his omni-tool for somewhere out in the badlands, but Atlas isn’t stupid enough to go alone and he’s starving.

Liam is curled up in the corner of the couch, a takeout container of Chinese from the marketplace on the table and a datapad in his hand. “I saved some for you,” he says, as the door swings open, barely glancing up. Atlas starts shedding his armor, leaving a trail from the door to the bed. He can take care of it later, gather it up and put it back in his locker, but right now the only thing he cares about is getting it off and getting something to eat.

“You’re a saint, Kosta,” Atlas says, and Liam looks up at him with a soft smile.

“I’d consider myself a considerate boyfriend instead, but that works too. Think they’ll make a statue in honor of my sainthood?” he says. Atlas rolls his eyes, stooping down give him a peck on the cheek as he grabs the takeout container.

“You know, I didn’t know they had Chinese takeout here on Kadara. The Nexus is seriously lacking,” Atlas says, stabbing at the noodles with a fork.

“I know. The Nexus only has one shitty bar. Kadara has at least two shitty bars,” Liam says, a faint grin on his face. Atlas rolls his eyes again, but he remembers Reyes sitting at the bar, whiskey gold eyes glittering in the dark as he laughed.

“Can we talk?” he blurts out, suddenly, and then he sighs.

“Yeah. Sounds serious. What’s up?” Liam asks, turning the datapad off and sitting up. Atlas puts the food down on the table and takes a deep breath.

“I didn’t even mean to ask about this, but I guess I don’t have a damn filter. Anyway, I was wondering- we’re exclusive, right?” he asks, biting his lip.

“Yeah we are...wait, you aren’t breaking up with me, are you?” Liam asks, but there’s still amusement glittering in his eyes, so he must not be too worried.

“Not...not really. I just...okay, so, Reyes Vidal is, like, really hot-” he starts, but Liam interrupts him with a choked sound that’s suspiciously similar to his laugh.

“You want the smuggler to fuck you, huh?” Liam asks, and Atlas turns red.

“Well, yeah, kinda. I think he’s been flirting with me, and I’ve kind of been flirting with him because he’s pretty and I didn’t plan on taking it anywhere. But I wanted to talk before it did go anywhere. If you’re not okay with it, you’re not okay with it, and I’m fine being a one-man kinda guy,” he says, running his hand through his hair.

“I’m...I’m not sure how I feel about it, honestly. I trust you, so I’m not worried you’ll...I don’t know, run off and leave me for him, but I’ve never really….shared, before,” he says, tapping his fingers on his leg.

“It’s up to you. If you aren’t okay with it, I’ll stop flirting and everything. You’re the first person I’ve ever been really serious with. I see this thing between us lasting, and I don’t want to jeopardize it just because I want to get laid. I’m seriously perfectly okay staying with you and only you for….hell, for the rest of my life,” he says, reaching across the table and taking Liam’s hand. He thinks of Reyes, and whiskey gold eyes. They might have been good together, but he and Liam were already good, and Atlas has never been a gambler.

“I think we can try it. It doesn’t hurt to test the waters, see if I like it or not. But this means that I’m gonna tease the absolute hell out of you,” he says, grinning. Atlas laughs, letting go of his hand and crawling across the table and straddling Liam’s lap. He drapes his arms around his neck, kissing him. Liam wraps his arms around Atlas, pulling him closer.

“I love you,” he says, burying his face in the crook of his neck.

“I love you too,” Liam says, his voice soft.

* * *

                Reyes sends them to the Roekaar hideout. Atlas steps in out of the sun, the door sliding shut behind them. “Reyes should be here,” he murmurs, looking around. The room they’re standing in is empty- he isn’t sure whether he should wait or not.

                “I detect no signs of Mr. Vidal. Should we proceed?” SAM asks, his voice measured and steady over the implant. Atlas bites his lip.

                “That’s not-” he starts, but the door slides open across from them and the Roekaar pile in.

                “Were we too loud?” he asks, giving them a grin. The nearest one scoffs.

                “Farah will deal with you,” they say, and usher them into the hideout at gunpoint. Liam looks angry, and Atlas tries to pretend he isn’t scared shitless.

                The hideout looks...well, like a hideout. Atlas is looking around, trying to plot a course for the exit, trying to figure out how they’re going to get out of this. Reyes is still a no-show, and Atlas thinks he’ll make a note not to rely on the smuggler in the future.

                “You’ll bleed like all the rest,” Farah says, and twirls a knife in her hand. It looks primitive, compared to the weapons Atlas is used to, but he has no doubts that it’ll hurt.

                “You murdered innocent people,” Atlas snarls, taking a step forward. Liam reaches out and grabs his arm, anchoring him in place.

                “Invaders and sympathizers aren’t innocent. I will protect my home,” the angara retorts, stepping closer. Atlas bristles.

                “We can coexist,” he protests.

                “Like here, on Kadara? Sloane Kelly uses my people for her power,” she spits.

                “I am not Sloane,” he says, and he can’t stop his biotics from lighting up around him. Cora makes a noise behind him, in the back of her throat. He can’t tell if it’s approval or disapproval, but he can’t quite bring himself to care either.

                “You are all the same,” Farah says, and Atlas can see a history of blood and bone behind the words. She raises the knife and he drops into a defensive stance, eyes tracing her movements, but then it’s shot from her hand.

                “Not on my watch,” Reyes growls, skidding to a stop next to them. Atlas relaxes almost immediately.

                “You’re late,” Atlas says, voice lifting up at the edges like a grin.

                “And for good reason. You’ll see in three,” he says, as the Roekaar start to scramble, “two,” and Farah turns back on him just as the explosion goes off behind her. “Still mad?” he asks. Atlas grins at him.

                “I think I can forgive you,” he says, and then the world goes blue as he charges into the fray.

                Reyes stops, his rifle hot in his hand, as he watches Atlas tear through the Roekaar. He came alive the second bullets started flying, like he was made for fighting, and Reyes thinks maybe Atlas doesn’t need any help to win this fight at all.

                When it’s over, Atlas joins him at the door.

                “You did good, Atlas. The streets of Kadara are safe again. I’ll let all the important people know this would have been impossible without you,” Reyes says, his eyes glittering.

                “We make a good team, Vidal,” Atlas answers, grinning.

                “Careful, Ryder. I’ll start to think you like me,” Reyes purrs, stepping closer. Liam watches with faint amusement, leaning against the wall beside Cora.

                “Maybe I do,” he replies, and they’re close enough that Atlas could kiss him if he wanted. He thinks about it, for a second, and wonders what it would be like. But he doesn’t, lets Reyes walk away instead before turning back to Liam and Cora with a grin.

* * *

CH: I have questions.

AR: hi to you too

CH: Hello, Atlas. It’s so wonderful to talk to you.

CH: I have questions. Answer them.

AR: you gotta ask ‘em first

CH: I can’t believe I put up with you.

CH: Anyway, what’s going on?

CH: Between you, Liam, and Vidal.

CH: Because I swear to the God I don’t believe in

CH: If you left Liam for that smuggler

CH: I will end you.

AR: i thought u were MY friend

AR: anyway i haven’t left liam for anybody

AR: i’d rather

AR: well

AR: i was gonna say i’d rather cut off my dick but i don’t have one

AR: anyway it’s the thought that counts

CH: Then what’s going on?

AR: it’s kinda complicated

AR: but not really

AR: vidal is completely my type

AR: i want him to bend me over all kinds of furniture

AR: but i love liam

AR: and i’d never jeopardize what i have with him            

CH: Is the point coming up at any time in the near future?

AR: oh shut the fuck up

AR: anyway, as i was saying

AR: i would never leave liam for reyes

AR: it’s not even really tempting

AR: but i talked to liam about how i was attracted to reyes

AR: because i am, and there’s no point in hiding it

AR: i asked him how he felt about a poly relationship

AR: and he said he wasn’t sure

AR: because he’s never done it

CH: So, what? You talked him into trying it?

AR: not really

AR: he’s the one that offered

AR: i said i’d follow his lead on this

CH: Oh. That’s good, then.

CH: I was afraid I was going to have to watch you make a monumental mistake.

CH: Liam’s a good man. And he loves you. A lot.

CH: I don’t know how much I trust Reyes.

CH: He seems like he’s hiding something.

AR: he’s a smuggler, it’s his job

AR: but criminality looks good on him

AR: and he would look good on me

CH: Please don’t make me think about you getting laid.

CH: In any capacity.

CH: You’re my friend and I love you.

CH: But that’s not something I want to think about.

AR: it doesn’t have to be sexual!

AR: but fair enough

AR: wouldn’t wanna think about you getting laid either

AR: except you need to.

AR: i can’t be the only one with a love life.

AR: spill the beans

CH: There are no beans to spill, Atlas.

CH: Some of us are more focused on the mission than getting laid.

AR: cora i am a man who can wear many hats.

AR: i can focus on the mission AND on getting fucked

CH: Yeah, yeah.

CH: Just be careful.

CH: I don’t want to see Vidal break your heart.

AR: maybe my heart needs to be broken

CH: Careful, Atlas.

CH: That’s a slippery slope.

AR: yeah, yeah.

AR: thanks, mom.

AR: no, seriously, though.

AR: thanks for caring.

* * *

                Atlas sets course for Voeld. There’s still plenty left to do, and Kadara is getting to his head. It doesn’t hurt that as soon as he made the decision Liam had crawled up into his lap, pressing up against him and reminding how much time they’d have between Kadara and Voeld. Atlas had laughed, leaning up for a kiss. They hadn’t stopped kissing, either, Atlas’ back pressed against the arm of the couch. He’d curled his hands in the front of Liam’s shirt, pulling him closer, and Liam had settled between his legs, laughing as he pressed kisses all over Atlas’ face. “I love you,” Atlas had said, a little breathless, when he had pulled back. Liam’s smile is breathtaking.

                “I love you, too. You know...the bed is looking a little empty,” he’d said, a grin curling the corners of his mouth up.

                “Are you trying to get in my pants, Kosta?” Atlas asked, fighting back a smile.

                “That depends. Is it working?” Liam had asked, and Atlas had thrown his head back laughing before pulling him in for another kiss.

                “Most definitely,” he murmured as they broke apart again.

                “Then yes. Yes I am,” Liam had said, chuckling, before rolling off the couch and picking Atlas up in one fluid motion. Atlas pressed another kiss to his lips, clinging to him as Liam carried him to the mattress. “Think I’m better than Vidal?” he asked, a teasing lilt to his voice, as he laid them down on the mattress. Atlas had rolled his eyes and rolled on top of Liam, leaning down to kiss him again like he couldn’t get enough.

                “I already know how good you are. I’ve not gotten a chance to see about Reyes,” he had said, and Liam had laughed before pulling him down again, his hand sliding up his back.

                “You’ll have to let me know when you find out,” Liam said, when Atlas pulled back to tug his shirt off.

                “I will. But I don’t think anything can top our first time,” he said, and Liam’s eyes had softened.

                “I love you,” he said, again, and Atlas had smiled, pulling Liam up to rest their foreheads together.

                “I love you, too. More than you could know,” he said, and they’d sat there, the lights turned off and the stars twinkling through the windows.

* * *

                Atlas wakes up to an insistent beeping from his omni-tool in the middle of the night cycle. The whole ship sleeps as he groans and he sits up, wiggling his way out of Liam’s arms. Liam grumbles, but he doesn’t wake up, settling back into the sheets. Atlas pads over to his dresser, tugging on a pair of boxers before he brings up the interface, sitting on his desk. Sam has been kind enough to dim the lighting automatically, so Atlas isn’t blinded by the ‘tool. Unexpectedly, it’s a message from Reyes, and Atlas’ stomach flips as he opens it.

RV: I could use some help, Pathfinder.

AR: what kind of help?

AR: should i refuse, at first? you seem like the type who enjoys the chase.

AR: i gotta admit, i do like being chased

RV: i’m far too shy for that, atlas

AR: yeah, you’re a real introvert, vidal

AR: anyway, what do you need?

AR: i hope it’s nothing too urgent

AR: i’m orbiting voeld right now

AR: i can get kallo to go ahead and head back to kadara

AR: but it’ll take us awhile

RV: orbiting voeld?

RV: it must be the middle of the night cycle for you.

RV: i didn’t wake you, did i?

AR: don’t worry about it

RV: so i did wake you up. I apologize.

AR: it’s okay. I’m too pretty for beauty sleep anyway.

AR: so what did you need?

RV: it isn’t urgent, so don’t worry.

RV: but a rival smuggler has stolen cargo that i was moving for a client.

 AR: and you want my help getting it back?

RV: you said it yourself

RV: we make a good team.

AR: what was stolen?

RV: no idea. Client paid extra for privacy.

RV: considering my fees, it must have been valuable.

AR: wait

AR: how did your rival steal your cargo in the first place?

RV: the way she usually does.

RV: got my middle man drunk and stole his damn ship.

AR: sounds like you know from experience.

RV: oh, please. I keep to a three drink maximum when i’m on a job

AR: speaking of drinks you still owe me.

AR: i ended up paying for the ones in tartarus, too

AR: careful, vidal, or i’ll think you’re using me for shitty whiskey

RV: i would never!

RV: there are plenty of other things that i could use you for

AR: i’m sure there are.

AR: anyway, i’ll help.

AR: just send me the details, i guess

RV: zia likes to drink in kralla’s song when she stops in kadara

RV: we should talk to umi, see what she knows

RV: how long do you think it’ll take you to get here?

AR: i’ll be there around midday, i think.

AR: not sure, though.

AR: time differences fuck with my head.

AR: i’ll have SAM send you an update when we get close

RV: of course

RV: i’ll see you later, Pathfinder

Atlas powers off his omni-tool and scrubs his hands over his face, groaning softly. He’s so tired he can feel it in his bones- it’d been a hard fight against the kett and he and Liam had both crashed as soon as they had showered and eaten.

“Must have been something important to wake you up,” Liam says, and Atlas jumps, nearly falling off his desk.

“When the hell did you get up?” he asks. Liam chuckles, moving closer and resting his chin on Atlas’ shoulder, pulling him against him.

“Couple minutes ago. The bed felt empty without you,” he says. Atlas reaches down, linking their fingers together.

“I didn’t mean to be out of it so long,” he says, a soft smile on his face. Liam makes a soft sound in the back of his throat, nuzzling into Atlas’ neck.

“What was it?” he asks.

“Reyes. Someone stole cargo he was moving for a client. He wants me to help him get it back,” he answers, turning around and tugging Liam towards the bed.

“I should have known he’d interrupt our sleep. Just thought it’d be more fun,” Liam grouses, and Atlas gives him a tired laugh as he sprawls back out on the mattress.

“I don’t even know if he likes me yet, Liam,” Atlas protests.

“Who wouldn’t like you? You’re hot, capable, and damn good in both a fight and in bed,” Liam murmurs.

“Just go back to sleep, you nerd. You can get back to extolling my virtues in the morning,” he says, snuggling up against him and pulling the duvet over them. Liam grumbles, but he pulls Atlas closer, nuzzling up against him again. Within minutes, both of them have drifted back to sleep.

* * *

                Atlas finds Reyes waiting in Kralla’s Song. Liam is outside in the market with Cora- they knew they’d likely have to head out into the badlands before the day was over.

                “You look like you’re waiting for someone,” Atlas says, sauntering up to the counter with his trademark grin on his face. Reyes turns to him, a slow smile uncurling across his face as he sees him.

                “That’s my line,” Reyes says, and Atlas grins at him.

                “You want a drink, or a room?” Umi cuts in, a look of fond exasperation on her face.

                “Information, actually,” Vidal answers.

                “That’ll cost more than a round of drinks,” she says, raising an eyebrow.

                “My friend is good for it,” Reyes says, looking at Atlas.

                “You’ll owe me for this, too, Vidal,” he returns, but Reyes just gives him a smile.

                “You are one person that I will happily be indebted to, Ryder,” he says. Atlas can’t keep the smile off his face, and Umi can’t help but groan at the two of them.

                “Just tell me what you want to know,” she says.

                “Zia Cordier. She been around, recently?” he asks.

                “You mean your ex?” Umi asks innocently, holding back a grin, “yeah, she was here.”

                “Ex? As in girlfriend?” Atlas asks, turning to Reyes. He had a sudden, sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach- here he was, chasing after him, and he didn’t even know if he liked men.

                “Girlfriend is a, uh, strong word. We had drinks occasionally. So...she was here?” he says, coughing, turning back to Umi suddenly. Atlas leans back and crosses his arms over his chest.

                “Yep. Met with a salarian. Shifty guy I’d never seen before. Maybe he was the Charlatan,” she answers, looking a little bored with the whole exchange.

                “Anything’s possible,” Vidal returns, “you overhear their conversation?”

                Umi sends them to Spirit’s Ledge. Reyes tells Atlas to go alone- he’ll work with his contacts to see if he can dredge anything else up, in case it’s a bust. Atlas wonders if this will be some elaborate plan like he had with the Roekaar. He heads into the badlands anyway, Cora driving the Nomad and Atlas sprawled out across Liam and the backseat.

* * *

                Zia pulls her gun on Reyes and Atlas comes alive with more intensity than ever seen from him before. It is enough to bathe the whole room in blue light, and his biotics crackle across his skin as he closes the distance between the two of them. Zia barely has time to react, her shields sparking as Atlas’ fist finds her face. He snarls, an animalistic sound torn from his throat, but Zia’s shields block most of the punch. Reyes, watching across the battlefield, thinks that had her shields been depleted she would have died. He turns back to his own fight just in time to dodge the butt of a rifle.

                Atlas skids backwards, putting distance between him and Zia. His father had always scolded him for this move, said it was too risky, said he was too likely to end up with a bullet between the eyes, but his father isn’t here anymore, and his shields hold up as she fires her pistol. He thrusts his arm out, his face twisting as he lifts, and then she starts to rise into the air. Reyes turns, his eyes seeking Atlas out like a beacon, just in time to see Atlas twist his lips into a snarl before he slams Zia back into the ground.

                It doesn’t kill her, but he sees how hard she struggles to pull herself to her feet again. By now, between the three others, everyone else is dead. Cora and Liam stand off to the side, chests heaving. Atlas, still wreathed in the blue glow of his biotics, stalks towards Zia. She fumbles, firing at him again, but two of her shots go wide and the third brings down his barriers, but she has to fumble to reload.

                He brings his own gun up. It’s a pistol, the one his father had given him all those years ago when he was still in high school, still thinking about careers. It’s one of the few things Atlas has left of his father, and in this moment he is every inch his father’s son.

                It’s over quickly, after that. It takes three shots to bring her shields down, and his aim is true on the fourth. He shakes himself a little as he holsters his pistol. He looks around the room, his eyes finding Cora and Liam before coming to rest on Reyes. He walks over, tries to put his trademark smile on his face, but Reyes can see him trembling as he gets closer.

                “Everything okay?” he asks, a little breathless, still glowing just a little, like he can’t quite get it under control.

                “It’s a little unsettling that the other smugglers on Kadaran teamed up to get me, but everything’s fine,” Reyes answers. He thinks about reaching out, but he remembers the way Liam had looked at Atlas and thinks better of it.

                “They could try again,” he says, his voice hoarse, and he looks like a kid trying to wear his father’s clothes, and Reyes can see how the role of Pathfinder doesn’t quite fit Atlas, no matter how hard the boy tries to fit himself inside it.

                “Are you worried about me, Ryder?” he asks, a chuckle in his voice.

                “Yes,” he says, sharply, and he lets out a sigh.

                “I’ll be fine. I know they’re coming now. They won’t get the drop on me,” he promises. He’s a little surprised they’d managed to do it this time.

                “Okay,” he says, and he’s suddenly bone-tired, tired enough to let the matter drop. Reyes steps closer, a warm smile on his face.

                “Oh, and Atlas? That thing you said about me being a better man? Thank you,” he murmurs. Atlas nods, but there’s a faint smile on his face that stays there even as he climbs inside the Nomad.

* * *

                The sun is setting over Kadara port, and Atlas finds Reyes in a back room in Tartarus, a datapad in hand and a glass of whiskey sitting on the table. For once, Atlas has entered the club without wearing his armor. He’d gotten restless, sitting in his room on the _Tempest_ alone. Liam was playing poker with Gil, and Atlas had no interest in losing more credits, so he’d left the ship and started walking without knowing where he was going. He wasn’t surprised he’d ended up on Reyes’ doorstep, but he hovers in the doorway for a moment, watching him. The smuggler looks relaxed in a way Atlas has never seen him before, and he almost doesn’t want to disturb him. Almost. He still wants his company.

                He knocks on the door, and Reyes looks up sharply, relaxing again when he sees it’s only Atlas. “Something you need, Pathfinder?” he asks. Atlas shakes his head, scuffing the toe of his shoe along the floor.

                “Nothing in particular. I just...got restless. Didn’t even really mean to come here, but I’m glad I did,” he answers, looking down.

                “Well, I’m glad you’re here too. Come sit,” he says. Atlas hesitates for a second longer before he walks over, curling up on the couch a few inches away.

                “Any questions I can answer while you’re here?” Reyes asks.

                “Well, I don’t have any specific questions. But tell me about the Outcasts and the Collective. They don’t seem to get along, and I’m too much of an outsider to understand the situation from angry people in the markets,” Atlas says, slipping his shoes off and pulling his knees up to his chest.

                “Not everyone is happy living under Sloane’s thumb. Any resources Kadara has to offer goes to the Outcasts. The rest of us just get scraps. The Collective claims to be better, but a lot of people have a hard time trusting a faceless leader,” Reyes answers, flicking the datapad off and tossing it to the side.

                “You’d think they’d take what they could get, if they hate Sloane so much. I mean, I get it, it’s hard to trust someone who doesn’t let you see their face or hear their voice, but sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do,” he says. He thinks of the memories he’s unlocked from his father- thinks of the nameless, faceless benefactor.

                “You sound like you don’t like Sloane,” Reyes replies, choosing his words carefully as he turns his whiskey-gold eyes on Atlas.

                “Yeah, well. I try not to hate people just because they were rude, but one look around Kadara port makes me see that she isn’t the best for this place. She’s turning it into a new Omega. It worked for Omega because it wasn’t anybody’s home before, but Kadara belonged to the angara. I’m doing everything I can to help the angara and she’s not making it any easier. It’s no wonder they didn’t trust me at first, and I can’t say I blame them,” he says, resting his chin on his knees. Reyes looks at him with a strange, soft smile on his face.

                “So do you support the Collective? The Charlatan?” he asks. Atlas shrugs.

                “I don’t know a damn thing about them. But I’d like to find a way to get Sloane out of power, maybe put an angara back in power,” he answers, picking at the seam of his pants.

                “That’s a noble goal, Pathfinder. What happened to just settling Kadara with an outpost?” Reyes asks, shifting so he’s facing him. Atlas sighs, shifting so he’s sitting cross-legged

                “I’ve never given a damn about what Tann and the rest of the Initiative wants. I’ve always wanted to help as many people as I could. I didn’t come to Andromeda so we could be at each other’s throats,” he says. Reyes reaches out, puts a hand on his knee.

                “You know, I have to say, I heard a lot about you before you landed on Kadara. I didn’t believe half of it,” he says. Atlas looks up at him, finds himself on the edge of another abyss that he might go tumbling into.

                “What did you hear?” he asks, biting his bottom lip.

                “I heard that you were a good man. That you were heroic and kind and willing to be everybody’s errand boy,” he says, leaning closer. Suddenly, all Atlas can think of is closing the distance between them until they were kissing. He wonders if he’d be able to taste the whiskey Reyes was drinking.

                “And what’s the verdict?” Atlas asks, and he finds that he’s leaning closer anyway.

                “That you’re the best man in all two galaxies I’ve been in,” Reyes breathes. Atlas hesitates, wonders if he’s misreading the situation, but then he grabs the lapels of Reyes’ jacket and pulls him closer, their lips crashing together. Atlas lets out a needy groan and Reyes is kissing back, pulling Atlas onto his lap. Atlas reaches up, tangling his fingers in Reyes’ hair, pulling a moan from the other man. He isn’t sure how long they kiss, but he’s breathless when he finally pulls back. They stare at each other for half a second before they’re kissing again. It’s softer, now, less intense, and Atlas melts against him. Reyes chuckles, and Atlas pulls back again, his cheeks red.

                “I, uh, should have asked first,” Atlas mumbles, but he hasn’t let go of Reyes either, even if he won’t quite look him in the eyes. Reyes laughs, tilting Atlas’ head up with a thumb under his chin.

                “I would have said yes anyway,” he tells him, eyes soft and bright.

                “Oh,” Atlas says, and then Reyes kisses the tips of Atlas’ fingers.

                “You are an absolute treasure, Pathfinder,” he murmurs, and his cheeks burn brighter.

                “You aren’t so bad yourself,” he mumbles, a faint smile on his face.

                Just then, his omni-tool lights up. It’s a message from Liam, telling him that poker is over and asking him where he is. He can tell that Liam is more than a little drunk, and he thinks he should probably get back even if he doesn’t want to leave the smuggler’s lap.

                “I, uh, I’ve got to go. Liam’s looking for me,” he says, looking up at Reyes. He looks almost sad, but he smiles at Atlas anyway.

                “Of course, Pathfinder. I’ll see you later,” Reyes says, squeezing his thighs before letting go. Atlas stands, looking back over his shoulder.

                “Yeah, definitely,” he answers. His face feels like it’s about to burst into flames as he slinks through the club.

* * *

                Liam is indeed a little drunk when Atlas gets back, and he’s greeted by a laughing lump under the covers. Atlas kicks off his shoulders and heads over.

                “I kissed Reyes,” he says, and Liam stops laughing. Atlas freezes, thinks for a second that Liam’s going to be upset, going to decide he can’t share after all.

                “...Was it good? Please tell me it was good,” he says, and Atlas lets out a breath.

                “It was...it was great, actually, he’s a really good kisser even thought it was kind of an accident and wow I was a little turned on,” he says, and Liam laughs again, pulling him down onto the blankets.

                “I’m glad you had fun. I did, too, even though Brodie kicked my ass at poker,” he says, curling closer and burying his face in Atlas’ chest. Atlas smiles, leaning down to kiss the top of his head.

                “I’m glad you had a good time,” he says, and Liam looks up at him with a smile that melts his heart.

* * *

Atlas sits curled up in the corner of his couch, a cup of coffee on the table in front of him. It isn't quite noon, but getting there, and Liam has just barely gotten in the shower. His omni-tool chimes, and his stomach flips. He knows it’s probably Reyes, but he can't stop the warmth from blooming in the pit of his stomach when he sees he was correct.

RV: i had a question, pathfinder.

RV: atlas.

RV: i suppose i should use your name now.

RV: we’re past formal titles, aren’t we?

AR: you asked me to call you by your name on day one

AR: hell yeah we’re well past that

AR: anyway what can i help u with

RV: liam kosta.

RV: i see the way he looks at you.

RV: and the way you look at him.

AR: that isn't a question, reyes.

RV: why did you kiss me?

RV: i’m not a good man.

RV: i’d deserve it if you broke my heart.

RV: but i’d like to know.

AR: i don't want to break your heart

AR: and you aren’t a bad man.

AR: i don't know all of you yet

AR: but a bad man wouldn't do all the things you're doing for kadara

AR: for me.

AR: you've helped me since i landed in this god forsaken port

AR: you might not be a good man

AR: but you aren't a bad one.

RV: thank you, atlas.

RV: you don't know what that means to me.

RV: but you still haven't answered my question.

AR: liam and i are a thing

AR: but i saw you in kralla’s song

AR: and i liked what i saw

AR: so at first it was just harmless flirting

AR: you're pretty and you have a nice voice ans you’re exactly my type

AR: but the interest didn't stop there

AR: and i wasn't going to fuck this thing up between me and him

AR: so i asked him.

AR: about you.

AR: and me.

AR: and how i really want you

AR: and he said we could try it.

AR: me and you.

RV: and you and him?

AR: yeah.

RV: so you’re still available?

AR: only for you

AR: and i shouldn't have kissed you

AR: not without asking

AR: making sure you were okay with all this

AR: but i couldn't help myself

RV: i’m glad

RV: this thing might not last long

RV: but i’m glad i’ll have it while it does.

AR: why wouldn't it last?

Reyes never messages back. After ten minutes, Atlas closes the interface on his omni-tool and turns back to his coffee. He’s worried, thinks Reyes might have had a little too much whiskey in Tartarus, but he doesn't want to push, knows how much he hates it when it happens to him. Reyes is a risk, anyway, would have been one back in the Milky Way and the newness of Andromeda doesn't change that.

But Atlas knows when risks are worth it, and Reyes certainly is.

* * *

Reyes is strangely silent after that. He calls for Atlas’ help once more, in getting the formula for Oblivion from Sloane, but other than that Atlas hasn’t been able to get a response. He pretends he doesn't care, but that doesn't stop the anxiety from forming a hard ball of worry in the pit of his stomach.

He finds himself staying on Kadara anyway, frequenting Kralla’s Song. It’s boisterous when he walks in, more so than usual, and Drack is sitting at the bar, a human crumpled at his feet.

“Do I even want to know?” Atlas asks, one eyebrow raised.

“Oh, this? His buddies talked him into a headbutting contest with me,” Drack explains, motioning for another drink from Umi.

“Some buddies,” Atlas says, shaking his head. He turns to Umi, but a voice from behind stops him.

“Hey, you! Yeah, you! I know who you are! You’re Nexus. You hurt us, so now it’s time we hurt you,” the man says. Umi protests as Atlas turns around, but he ignores her. The man in front of him his clearly drunk.

“Looks like someone wants a fight. You up for it, Atlas?” Drack asks. Atlas gets a hard edge to his smile- there’s plenty of emotions seething under his skin that have been waiting for an outlet.

He stalks up to the man, stands chest to chest with him. “You start this fight, and I’m gonna finish it,” he says, a warning slipping into his tone.

“Oh yeah? You and what army?” the man sneers, hands curling into white-knuckled fists.

“I don’t need an army. I’ve got a krogan,” Atlas says, and then all hell breaks loose. It seems like the whole damn bar gets involved. It isn’t much of a contest, not with the way the two of them fight together. Atlas keeps his biotics under control, puts all his energy into using his fists and his feet, and by the time he staggers out of the bar, victorious and drunk, he’s got a black eye, a bloody nose, and a cut across his arm when someone came at him wielding a broken bottle.

He stumbles directly into Reyes. It takes them a moment to recognize each other, and then Reyes’ hand is curled around Atlas’ uninjured arm, pulling him to the bathrooms.

“What the hell happened?” he asks, opening the door with his free hand. It’s a single bathroom, outfitted with a sink and everything. It looks like it was ripped out of one of the pre-fabs the Nexus has- and for all Atlas knows it was.

“Bar fight. I won,” he answers, grinning. Reyes shakes his head, ducking back outside. Atlas sits on the counter next to the sink, his legs dangling down, his fingers tapping a rhythm on the surface.

Reyes comes back moments later, a first aid kid in hand. Wordlessly, he tugs Atlas’ shirt off, leaning closer to inspect the cut on his arm. It’s starting to sting, but it isn’t deep.

“You need to be more careful,” he murmurs, smearing medi-gel on the cut and wrapping a bandage around his arm. Atlas looks up at him, a half-grin on his face.

“But I like it when you patch me up,” he says. Reyes stops, locking eyes with him. He reaches up, dabbing at the blood on Atlas face with a balled up piece of tissue paper. The moment he moves his hand, Atlas pulls him into a kiss, his fingers tangling in loose fabric of his shirt.

“I missed you,” he says, the words painfully honest. Reyes sighs, wrapping his arms around Atlas and pulling him into a hug. He tucks his head underneath Reyes’ chin, his ear pressed against his chest. He can hear his heartbeat thumping steadily in his ear, and somehow, weeks of stress melt out of him. “I was afraid you were mad at me,” he whispers. Reyes leans back, tilting his head up with a finger underneath his chin.

“I’m not mad at you, Atlas. I just don’t want to break your heart,” he murmurs, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his lips.

“Maybe I want you to break my heart,” Atlas says, swallowing hard. There’s something scared and vulnerable in his eyes, but the confession holds true.

“You deserve a better man than me,” Reyes whispers. He feels like he’s standing on the edge of cliff, that any second he will fall, that it is up to Atlas to pull them back from the edge, because he isn’t strong enough to do it himself.

“I don’t know what kind of man you think you are, but I’m here anyway,” he says, a little desperate, earnestly staring up at him. He just wants to make him see, wants him to know how much he means it.

Reyes finds that he’s fallen over the edge after all.

* * *

He gets a message from Kateus, then, knows it’s really an order from Sloane. The kett aren't gone yet and she needs Atlas’ help, so he suits up and heads into the badlands once more.

* * *

Atlas finds himself outside a cave. The kett have holed up inside, and maybe he’s underestimating the threat because Sloane has shown up, too. Kaetus doesn't like it, and Atlas finds himself half-hoping the Collective will take the chance while they can, when Sloane can be dethroned without being killed.

Like everything with the kett, it turns into a fight.  Sloane is formidable in battle, but she finds herself stopping to watch Atlas. He throws himself into this fight like he has all the others, carving a bloody swath through the kett. He doesn't like to admit it, but he had to learn something from his father.

In the end, Atlas finds that he doesn't dislike Sloane as much as he had before. He still wanted to give Kadara back to the angara, though. Seemed wrong, to take it from them when they had everything with the kett to deal with.

* * *

Sloane Kelly leaves them in the badlands. It’s past noon, the sun starting to inch a little closer to the horizon with each passing minute, but there’s plenty of time left in the day. Atlas pauses on top of a hill, the Nomad at the bottom, and looks out at the horizon. Kadara is still breathtaking- he thinks his favorite sight in the universe might be Kadaran sunsets.

“We heading back to the _Tempest_?” Cora asks, stretching. There’s some blood splattered on the front of her suit, and sweat sticks her hair to her face. She looks tired, Liam does too, but Atlas can’t bring himself to go back to the _Tempest_ yet. There’s something restless stirring in his bones, like he’s getting close to something big. A migraine is starting- he can feel it in his teeth

“No, not yet. We’ve still got to activate the monoliths and restart the vault. Wouldn’t hurt to do it while we’re here,” he says, starting down the hill.

“Sure thing, boss,” Cora says, following him, with Liam trailing behind her. Atlas crawls into the Nomad, takes a seat in the back and puts his head in his hands. He thinks he might be able to get two monoliths activated before the migraine hits in full force. He isn’t sure how he’s going to manage to do the vault with a migraine, but he’s done stupider things in his life, and he’s sure it’ll work out somehow.

He jumps when he feels a hand on the small of his back. “You okay?” Liam asks, brown eyes shining with worry. Atlas nods, rubbing his face.

“Yeah. Just feel a migraine coming on,” he says, sitting up and stretching.

“I have ice packs, if you need them,” he says, and Atlas gives him a small, tired smile.

“I don’t need them yet. I’ll get back to you around monolith number two, though,” he says, and Liam grins, wrapping his arm around Atlas and pulling him close.

“Whatever you say, babe,” he says, and Atlas buries his face in the crook of Liam’s neck.

“If you’ve got a headache, why did you decide to take care of the vault now?” Cora asks, glancing back at them.

“Eyes on the road, Harper, and we’ve gotta do it sometime. We’re already out here so we may as well just get it done. We’ve done enough fucking around on Kadara,” he answers.

“Someone kept wanting to see his new boyfriend,” Cora retorts, and usually Atlas would let this slip by with a laugh and a wink, but he’s too tired and he hasn’t heard anything from Reyes in weeks.

“My boyfriend is sitting next to me, Cora,” he says, his voice stiff. Liam frowns, glancing at the back of Cora’s head.

“And he isn’t the reason you keep dragging us back to this shitty planet. If it were me, we’d have abandoned the idea of an outpost a long time ago. Sloane Kelly isn’t going to take kindly to us moving in when she was part of the mutiny on the Nexus. I like to think you’d have realized that a long time ago if a certain someone hadn’t charmed his way into your pants,” she fires back. Atlas goes still.

“Reyes has nothing to do with what I want for Kadara. I’m the pathfinder now, not you, not my father. I want better for this fucking galaxy than the shitshow we dealt with in the Milky Way. Sloane Kelly doesn’t need to rule Kadara. The Initiative needs more outposts. The only thing Reyes Vidal has to do with either of them is to give us intel that nobody else will. I haven’t spent any more time here on Kadara than I have on Eos, and I fucking hate that place. At least the weather is tolerable here,” he says, slouching back in his seat. He doesn’t want to fight, not really, but Cora’s targeting the one thing that hurts right now. Reyes and his silence. Atlas, and the way he wears his heart on his wrist.  

“Fine. You’re the pathfinder. You know best,” she says, and then his omni-tool dings. He looks down at it, ready to swipe the message away and deal with it later, but then he sees it’s from Reyes and his mouth goes dry. Liam smiles encouragingly at him, scooting away to give him privacy.

RV: Pathfinder Ryder.

RV: I have an invitation for you.

AR: Oh?

RV: I see your ship is still in port.

RV: Sloane’s hosting a party tonight.

RV: I want you to be my plus-one.

AR: Reyes, that sounds an awfully lot like a date.

AR: Is it?

RV: That depends.

AR: On what?

RV: If you want it to be.

RV: Oh, by the way.

RV: I apologize for being silent for so long.

RV: I was trying to gather intel.

RV: I didn’t learn anything new.

AR: It’s fine, really.

AR: So, tonight, huh?

RV: Yes. Meet me in the marketplace?

AR: Sure. I’m sure it’ll be fun.

AR: I’ll see you there, Vidal.

He closes his omni-tool with a sigh. He hadn’t exactly planned on being so oddly formal- he was never that formal with anyone else, and he wonders if Reyes noticed. He’s not mad, not really, but the silence had started to hurt.

 "What was it?” Cora asks, polite civility in her tone. He can tell that she’s still a little pissed, but she isn’t holding it against him either.

 "It was Reyes. Sloane’s hosting a party tonight,” he answers. He doesn’t need to see her face to see the grin on her face.

“Is it a date?” she asks.

“He said it depends,” he says, a sheepish smile on his face.

“Hey, no, tell him that’s our joke. He’s gotta get his own,” Liam says, but he’s grinning too.

"He has a couple,” Atlas says, but he feels a little better about the whole situation.

Later, he will find a note from Cora in his armor locker. It is hastily scribbled on a torn piece of paper, but it’s an apology, which is more than he expected. He slips one of his own into her locker, a faint smile on his face.

* * *

                He gets back to the _Tempest_ and jumps straight into a shower. He’s got a faint headache pounding in his head, but he’s had worse and he’s sure this will one go away. He’s starving, too, but he only has time for a snack before he has to dart out the door. He isn’t sure what the dress code is, but he supposes it doesn’t matter because the only things he has are the casual clothes he wears when he’s off-duty. He has a half-dozen excuses lined up, but he finds he doesn’t need them. Reyes is waiting for him, like he said he would be, in the marketplace, leaning up against a stall. He isn’t wearing anything special, either, and his whole face lights up when he sees Atlas.

                “I promise I’ll be a perfect gentleman,” he says, in lieu of a greeting as Atlas gets closer.

                “What if I don’t want you to be a gentleman?” he asks, his cheeks turning pink even as he smiles. Reyes laughs, and Atlas drinks in the sound.

                “That can be arranged,” he promises, and he falls in step with him, walking close enough that their arms brush.

                Reyes gets them through the door and an angara woman approaches them, a warm grin on her face.

                “Reyes Vidal. I was starting to think you wouldn’t show,” she says, her voice practically a purr.

                “Remember what I said about “fashionably late”?” Reyes asks, charming smile on his face.

                “Oh, hush. Introduce me to your companion,” she says, turning to look at Atlas. He offers her his trademark grin, easy and charming, but there’s an edge to it when he can feel her appraising him.

                “Atlas, this is Keema Dohrgun, angaran representative to Sloane. And a personal friend of mine,” he says, more relaxed than Atlas has ever seen me.

                “Funny. I didn’t think Reyes had friends. Only contacts and colleagues,” he says, and Keema laughs.

                “Oh, don’t worry, I’m those too. I’m the one who secured him an invitation. I was hoping he’d bring you, Pathfinder. You’re all he talks about these days,” she says, and Reyes flushes. Atlas thinks he’ll get along just fine with Keema.

                “Well, sorry to cut this short, but I’ve got something to do,” he says, looking at Atlas apologetically.

                “Abandoning me already?” Atlas asks, feigning hurt. It stings a little, if he’s honest, but he knows Reyes has more cards up his sleeve than he’s willing to show, so he doesn’t hold it against him.

                “There are some important players here tonight. Mingle, try to make an impression,” he says, and Atlas feels a little like he did when he first woke up on the Hyperion, thrown to the wolves. He tries to keep from panicking.

                “You treat all your dates this way, or am I special?” he asks, and he knows he’s stalling. The thought of being alone in a crowd like this leaves a bad taste in his mouth, but he knows he can’t stop Reyes from going.

                “I’ll make it up to you,” he promises, and then he’s gone before Atlas can say anything else, vanishing through the crowd. He turns to Keema, but she’s gone too, and he has to take a second to take a deep breath.

                He heads to the bar. Umi is there, and she serves him up a glass of whiskey that he downs gratefully, but he doesn’t want to get drunk so he meanders away again. Eventually, he runs out of people he thinks he should talk to, so he starts looking for Reyes. He finds him in a back room, crouching next to some crates, muttering something about serial numbers.

                “I should have known you were up to something,” Atlas says, mouth quirking up in a grin as Reyes jumps.

                “Atlas! It isn’t what it looks like!” he says, holding his hands out, and there’s something adorably innocent about Reyes Vidal looking like a kid caught with a hand in the cookie jar.

                “So you didn’t use me as a distraction to go through Sloane’s stuff?” he asks innocently, arms crossed over his chest as he fights back a smile.

                “Okay, fine, yes, I did, but it’s to benefit us both, I promise,” he says, and Atlas’ face falls.

                “You’ve been making a lot of promises lately-” he starts, but Reyes looks around him, a panicked expression on his face.

                “Shit! Someone’s coming!” he says, and a second later Atlas can hear the footsteps. He looks around for a place to hide but comes up blank, so he grabs the front of his jacket and pulls him in for a kiss.

                It’s nothing like the kiss they shared in Tartarus. Both of them are too stiff, waiting to be found out, and Reyes keeps his eyes on the door even as Atlas does his best to look a little too drunk and a little too lovestruck. The kiss still leaves his head spinning, even as the guard goes around the corner and disappears again, even as Reyes pulls back, and Atlas doesn’t know if it’s Reyes or the whiskey or both but he can’t stop thinking about how the only thing he wants is to do that again. He realizes that the silence of the past few days doesn’t bother him, that Reyes isn’t the kind of man to send good morning and good night messages to. He realizes that he doesn’t care, either. He has Liam for that, and even if he didn’t he doesn’t think he’d be able to stop himself from giving the rest of his heart to the smuggler in front of him.

                “I think we’re in the clear,” Reyes murmurs, a faint smile on his face.

                “Are you sure? Maybe we should kiss again. Just to be sure,” Atlas answers, and Reyes laughs.

                “Now you’re teasing me,” he says, and then he turns back to the crates, scaling the ones tucked against the wall and rummaging around. Atlas watches him hesitantly, arms crossed over his chest again, until Reyes jumps back with a grin. “Finally!” He triumphantly holds up a bottle of whiskey.

                “That’s what this is all about? Whiskey? Reyes, I swear to God,” he starts, but Reyes holds up a finger, eyes gleaming.

                “This is triple-distilled Mount Milgrom. It’s 645 years old, and the only bottle in Andromeda. It’s not just whiskey. It’s a treasure. And I got it for us,” he says, eyes bright, and Atlas can’t bring himself to complain anymore.

                “Then we should go drink it,” he says, grabbing Reyes’ free hand and tugging him towards the door. Reyes follows, laughing, and for the first time since he came to Andromeda Atlas feels like the boy he is. He is twenty-two years old, drunk and in love, and the weight of the galaxy melts off of his shoulders.

* * *

                They sit above the marketplace, their sides pressed together. The sun is setting over Kadara port, and the sight is almost enough to take Atlas’ breath away. The whiskey is that much sweeter with the view, and the view is even better with Reyes sitting next to him.

                “Is Andromeda everything you hoped it would be?” Reyes asks, a third of the way through the bottle and warm against Atlas’ side.

                “Every day is an adventure. I think that’s what I wanted all along. What about you? Why did you come here?” he asks, and Reyes pauses to take a drink before answering.

                “To be someone,” he answers, finally, something small and quiet in his voice, and Atlas knows this is something he’s never told anybody else.

                “You’re someone to me,” Atlas says insistently, turning closer, their thighs pressed together.

                Reyes reaches up, cupping Atlas’ jaw. Atlas is wreathed in the fading sunlight, silhouette in gold, and Reyes’ breath gets caught in his throat. “I thought you might start to hate me, after I didn’t contact you, but I’m starting to think the kiss was more than a distraction,” he breathes. Atlas doesn’t know who makes the first move, but all of a sudden, they’re kissing. It’s softer than the kiss in Tartarus, more real, and even as Atlas swings his leg over to balance precariously in Reyes’ lap, it lacks the burning intensity of the first kiss. This one, with the two of them bathed in gold, makes him think they have a future. It is quiet, it is gentle, and in the fading light of the Kadaran sunset, Atlas finds himself falling in love.

* * *

Atlas is on Eos when he gets an email from Sloane Kelly. He sets course for Kadara, half convinced that it’s a trap because he doesn’t know why Sloane would contact him. The feeling only intensifies when he hurries into her headquarters, sees her sitting alone on the throne.

“Where is everybody?” he asks. The room feels hushed and still, like he shouldn’t be there, with dust motes swirling in the air. It’s only a couple of hours until sunset, and already the sky behind Sloane is turning red.

“I told them to get out of my sight. The Charlatan used my own people to beat up Kaetus. He’s alive, but barely,” she answers, something cold and hard in her eyes that makes Atlas think, for one strange moment, of his father.

“I’m sorry. I know you and Kaetus were close,” he begins, but Sloane shakes her head, her lip curled up into a snarl.

“You don’t know shit,” she tells him, and then she sighs, like all the fight’s left her. “I didn’t call you here for a pity party.”

“Why did you call me?” he asks, crossing his arms over his chest and giving her an appraising look. Usually, he’s good at estimating people, at finding out their motives and their emotions and using it to his advantage, but Kadara seems determined to keep secrets from him. He can’t figure out Sloane, can’t figure out Reyes, can’t figure out anyone he’s met on this damned planet.

“The Charlatan left a note on Kaetus’ body, wants to settle things. I can’t trust my own people, but you? You’re an outsider. You’ve spent a lot of time on Kadara lately, but you still operate under your own rules,” she says, something desperate in her voice, and Atlas realizes very suddenly that he is in over his head.

“I’ll go with you,” he promises, his voice quiet.

“Kadara’s fate will be decided here,” she tells him, like he didn’t already know, and it’s just something else to put on his shoulders. He finds that he is tired of deciding the fate of their people.

* * *

                He drives to the meeting spot alone, in silence. It’s the first time he’s ever driven the Nomad, and the first time he’s ever been alone planetside in Andromeda since he fell out of the sky on Habitat 7. Sloane is waiting outside next to a shuttle as he pulls up, stays stony-faced and quiet as he clambers out of the Nomad. The space between them is heavy and oppressive as she heads towards the cave, not checking to see if he follows. He does anyways.

                The cave looks empty, at first. Atlas and Sloane are both looking around, eyes on the shadows and hands drifting towards the pistols at their belts. He hears a boot scuff against the rock, and then a voice from the shadows.

                “You look like you’re waiting for someone,” a familiar voice purrs, and Atlas’ heart stops in his chest. Reyes steps out of the shadows, the light slanting across his face, and Atlas finds that his mouth is dry. He’d suspected that Reyes was involved with the Charlatan, but he’d never imagined this.

                “Reyes?” he manages, and he’s sure he looks like he’s been punched in the stomach. His thoughts scatter, flitting back and forth and trying piece together everything that’s staring him in the face.

                “I’m here for the Charlatan, not some third-rate smuggler,” Sloane says, dismissively, but she’s still looking around, still waiting for the other shoe to fall.

                “They’re the same,” Atlas manages to say, voice barely above a whisper, and Reyes looks at him with a mask of cold indifference. Atlas can see the cracks in that mask, can see something hiding underneath, but he doesn’t think Sloane can.

                “Surprise,” Reyes says, with a little shrug of his shoulders.

                “You lied to me. You’ve...this entire time,” he says, and he looks down at the ground, like he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing. He isn’t mad, not really, and he doesn’t feel betrayed. He can’t feel anything but empty- all the time he spent with Reyes, for Reyes, feels like it’s coming back to choke him.

                “Not about everything. You know who I really am,” Reyes answers, voice soft, something almost like regret on his face.

                Sloane shifts, crossing her arms over her chest and clearing her throat. Atlas’ attention snaps back to her, his heart still in his throat. “You said you want to settle this. How?” she asks, and he can tell she’s trying to sound cold and indifferent, to sound untouchable, unshakeable, but there’s an undercurrent of fear in her voice.

                “A duel. You and me. Right here, right now. The winner takes Kadara Port,” he says, jumping down from the ledge. Every movement he makes reminds Atlas of the first time he met him, sitting in Kralla’s song and radiating confidence.

                “You want to avoid war by shooting each other?” Atlas asks, a wry grin on his face. He still feels like he’s standing on uneven ground- this is the man he fell in love with, the man who kissed him when the sun had turned them both into something golden, but it is also the Charlatan who rules from the shadows.

“Two people shooting each other is better than a lot of people shooting each other,” Reyes answers, his eyes never leaving Sloane. His back is turned slightly, towards Atlas, and he knows it’s because Reyes trusts him not to stick a knife in it. He swallows hard at this realization- he knows he wouldn’t do it, not ever, not even if it came down between himself and Reyes, knows he’d let Vidal stick a knife between his ribs before he even thought about betraying him, but he doesn’t think he wants that power, either.

Sloane stares at him for a moment, in the same cold and calculating way she’d once looked at Atlas. She has her back to him, too, and Atlas suddenly wishes he’d never heard of Kadara. “I’ll take those terms,” she says, finally, chin tilted defiantly.

The two of them start to circle each other, hands hovering over pistols, and Atlas backs up until his back hits the wall. His mouth is dry again, his heart is in his throat. He doesn’t think he wants to see either of them win. Neither of them deserve to bleed out in this cave, miles away from the city they’re both fighting for. He clenches his hands into fists to keep them from shaking, and wonders if this is how Reyes felt when he had watched Atlas fight Zia.

Atlas sees a glint in the shadows. It was gone before he could be sure he saw it, but he gains another horrible, awful, sudden realization. There’s a sniper hidden in the shadows. _His sights are set on Sloane_ , SAM tells him, and Atlas wants to curse. He knows he has a choice right now, knows he has plenty of time to get Sloane out of the line of fire, knows it might be at the cost of Reyes if he does. Reyes as the Charlatan didn’t bother him. Sloane and Reyes thrusting this choice upon him does, and suddenly and clearly he can feel the weight of six hundred years weighing down on his shoulders. For the first time in months, he thinks of the boy with the blonde hair and wonders how he went from a soldier on Arcturus to this.

Atlas doesn’t move.

The sniper’s finger twitches on the trigger.

A shot rings out, the silence broken even with the suppressor.

Sloane stops, suddenly, her mask of indifference shattering.

She falls to her knees, gasping, pain creeping onto her face.

“Bang,” Reyes says, two fingers and a thumb turning into a gun, a hard look in his eyes. Atlas thinks he sees the person he might have become, if the world had been a little less nice. He thinks this might be what Reyes had meant about being a bad man, but he remembers the way he’d felt when he fought Zia, and suddenly they didn’t seem very different. He doesn’t know if they ever were, doesn’t know who he is, really, much less who Vidal is.

Sloane crumples and lays still.

The sniper steps out of the shadows, his rifle folded onto his back. “Get here out of here, and prepare the crew. Tonight Kadara Port is ours,” Reyes orders, and the man hurries to comply. Reyes starts walking, and Atlas falls into step beside him. He thinks he might be sick.

“Guess you got everything you wanted,” he murmurs, crossing his arms over his stomach.

“What I want is peace. Sloane would have brought war to Heleus, and we don’t have the population for that,” Reyes says, his voice gentle. He looks like a weight has fallen off his shoulders, like he’s free.

Atlas stops, his stomach still twisted. “Why didn’t you trust me?” he asks, and he can’t stop the hurt from creeping into his voice. Reyes goes still, his back a line of tension, before he turns to Atlas, regret shining in his eyes. Atlas realizes that he is not upset that Sloane is dead- people die all the time, and she wasn’t loved for her leadership. He is upset because the man he has fallen in love with did not trust him enough to tell him, did not trust him enough to let him in on the plan, to let him help in some way. His breath hitches in his throat, caught on the revelation.

“I liked the way you looked at me. I didn’t want it to change,” he says, softly, helplessly. Atlas’ heart twists in his chest, and he steps forward, his fingers finding Reyes’.

“Nothing’s changed. Not really,” he whispers, because there’s no other way for this to end. Even if he’d wanted to, he couldn’t have left. Reyes steps closer, his hand on Atlas’ hip. They’re both so vulnerable right now that it hurts like a knife twisting into his chest.

“You have bad taste in men,” Reyes breathes, and then they’re kissing, Atlas’ back pressed against the wall, Reyes’ knee between his thighs. It is a thing of desperation, of gasping breaths and scrambling fingers as they try to get _closer_. When they break apart for air he leans forward, mouth hovering at Reyes’ ear.

“The worst,” he agrees, and Reyes chuckles, a smile blooming on Atlas’ face. He’s still troubled- he is not the kind of man that can be brought out of his head by a handful of kisses. He knows they will have to deal with what comes next, and it hangs heavy over his head. But there will be nothing done about it tonight- tonight belongs to them, belongs to the pool of heat in his lower belly, belongs to the look in Reyes’ golden eyes.

* * *

                Reyes pulls him to a waiting shuttle, their fingers linked together. “I have the Nomad,” Atlas protests, half-heartedly, but he doesn’t think he could drive that well with Reyes sitting next to him, and he doesn’t think handing control over to SAM would be the best idea either.

                “Do you really want to drive right now?” he asks, sending a look over his shoulder that makes liquid heat pool in Atlas’ lower stomach.

                “Cora is going to kill me,” he groans. She probably won’t be happy with him, not for tumbling into this with Reyes, not for leaving the Nomad parked in the middle of nowhere, not for standing by and letting a sniper kill Sloane Kelly, but Atlas won’t think of that right now. He can’t let himself think about it, especially not Sloane, not the way she’d gasped when the bullet hit. He can deal with this later, unpack it when he’s somewhere else, work through whatever it is he’s feeling. Right now he can focus on Reyes and the friction between his thighs.

                “I’ll protect you,” Reyes promises, laughing, and he pulls him into the shuttle. The driver, to his credit, keeps his eyes straight ahead, and turns the music up so he can’t hear the sounds his boss may start making. Reyes pulls Atlas down on his lap, his hands on his hips, but Atlas can’t feel him through his armor.

                “Where are we going?” he asks, between heated kisses and grasping fingers. He feels like he’s caught up in a whirlwind, like he doesn’t have the time to catch his breath but he doesn’t think he wants it to slow down.

                “We could go to Tartarus. Or I have an apartment in Kadara,” Reyes answers, breathless, pressing kisses along Atlas’ jawline.

                “The apartment,” Atlas says, gasping as Reyes sucks a bruise onto his neck. There’s a vague plan forming in the back of his mind, drowned out by everything he’s feeling, but he tucks the thought away and holds onto it for later as he curls his fingers in Reyes’ shirt, pulling him back up for another kiss.

                The shuttle drops them outside the city walls. They take a second where they pretend to make themselves presentable before they step inside Kadara, fingers linked as Reyes pulls him through the streets. Atlas is sure everyone knows what they’ve been doing, what they’re about to do, but Reyes laughs over his shoulder and he realizes that he doesn’t care. He leads Atlas to a tiny apartment, stuffed in the corner of the marketplace. He fumbles for a moment with the lock, doesn’t want to let go of him long enough to punch in the keycode, and the second they’re through the door Reyes has him pressed against the wall, fingers scrabbling at the seals on his armor.

                They manage to shed their clothes in between the door and the couch. Atlas thinks it’s just a bench from Tartarus, repurposed, because it looks suspiciously like the couch in the room Reyes occupies at the club, but he doesn’t have long to think about it before Reyes pulls him back down onto his lap, fingers trailing teasingly up his sides. Atlas whimpers, grinding against him as their lips meet again. Reyes runs his hands up Atlas’ back, making him shiver. Atlas pulls back for half a second, panting. He’s soaked already- he can feel it in the way his boxers stick uncomfortably- and Reyes is hard against him.

                “There’s something I have to tell you,” Atlas says, taking a deep breath, and Reyes looks up at him, whiskey gold eyes shining in the light slanting through the window.

                “Do you want to stop?” he asks, voice husky, and if Atlas wasn’t wet before he definitely is now.

                “No, it’s just, I’m trans, and I got top surgery, but I never got bottom surgery. I just, ah, didn’t want you to be surprised,” he says, stumbling over his words. He hates having to do this, hates having to keep outing himself to every new person he might fall into bed with, because there are still people in the world who might hold it against him, but he’d rather do it now, when he can get up and walk out with his head held high before they can see him so vulnerable.

                “Oh. That’s...are you good to keep going?” Reyes asks, innocently looking up at him. He’s got one thumb hooked in the waistband of Atlas’ boxers, the other hovering over his hip. His voice is husky, deeper than normal, and Atlas doesn’t think he’s ever been so wet in his life. There’s something like adoration in Reyes’ eyes, something soft and warm that makes Atlas think he’d gladly stay with him for the rest of his life, mixed with the kind of desire that sends a bolt of heat through him.

                “Fuck yes,” he breathes, as Reyes slips his other thumb into the waistband, teasingly tracing circles on his hip bones.

Reyes chuckles, leaning forward to press a kiss against his neck before sucking another bruise onto his skin. He pulls Atlas’ boxers down tantalizingly slow, a wicked gleam in his eyes. Atlas shifts, awkwardly holding himself up so Reyes can fling the boxers somewhere across the room.

                “I do believe I’m a little overdressed now,” Reyes purrs, and his voice makes Atlas’ weak in the knees. He reaches down, pulling Reyes’ boxers off with absolutely none of the slow tension Reyes had. He swallows hard when he sees his cock and he can’t think of anything else except how badly he wants it inside of him. He pushes Reyes back on the couch and straddles his thighs. He bites his lip, looking up at Atlas with hooded eyes and lazy smirk on his face. “Going to jump straight in, eh?” he asks, and Atlas can’t stop himself from leaning down and pressing another quick kiss to his lips.

                “I’m wet enough. And I think I’ll definitely be able to go more than once. Just wanna feel you inside me,” Atlas answers, biting his bottom lip as he shifts.

                “Don’t let me stop you,” he purrs, and Atlas groans. He knows he won’t last long, can already tell this orgasm will make him fall apart at the seams.

                Atlas raises up, one hand on Reyes’ shoulder for balance, the other moving to his cock to guide him inside. He sinks down slowly, throwing his head back and closing his eyes, moaning. The stretch burns in the best way, his muscles clenching around his cock as he bottoms out. Reyes groans, the sound going straight to his clit and making it throb. He feels Reyes’ hands on his hips, keeping him steady. Atlas whines, nails digging into his skin.

                “So responsive,” Reyes murmurs, moving one hand to trail his fingers up Atlas’ spine as they both take a moment to adjust to the feeling. Atlas groans again, resting his forehead against Reyes’. It is then that Reyes starts to giggle, and Atlas pulls back, a half-smile on his face.

                “Care to share with the rest of the class, Vidal?” he asks, draping his arms over his shoulders.

                “Oh, I don’t know, _Ryder_ ,” he says, and then he laughs again, unable to help himself. Atlas stares at him for a second, incredulous, and then he dissolves into giggles, head in the crook of Reyes’ neck. He is hit at once with the absurdity of what is happening- he finally has Reyes Vidal inside of him, and they’re giggling over a dick joke.

                “You ruined the mood,” he says, when he can finally stop laughing, lifting his head up to look at him.

                “My apologies, Atlas,” Reyes says, voice low, fingers shifting on his hips as he looks up at him with hooded eyes. A shiver skates down his spine as he leans down, lips pressing together, fingers linking behind his neck. 

                He starts moving slowly, experimentally, Reyes shifting to help him. It takes them a minute of awkward fumbling to settle into a rhythm, and then a litany of groans and whimpers fall from his lips. He’s embarrassingly close already, can feel his climax hurtling towards him like a speeding train. He’d forgotten how turned on he was, but his body was quick to remind him in a way that leaves him breathless. He shuts his eyes again, nails digging into Reyes’ shoulder, leaving scratch marks down his chest as his hand slips. Vidal groans at the touch, biting into his bottom lip, but Atlas can’t focus on anything but his impending orgasm. He’s so close that it almost hurts, and he whines wordlessly. It’s a clumsy, fumbling touch against his clit that finally sends him over the edge, gasping and panting, fingers scrabbling for purchase on the back of the couch. Reyes fucks him through the aftershocks, a smug grin on his face as Atlas shudders, clenching around him.

                “You look beautiful when you come,” Reyes whispers, his breath skating down Atlas’ back, and he whimpers in response. He can’t quite make his legs move, even as he lazily opens his eyes, face flushed.

                “Fuck, Reyes,” he breathes, and then he pulls him in for another kiss. Reyes chuckles against his lips as he starts to move his hips again in slow, shallow thrusts. Atlas gasps, breaking away from the kiss, overly sensitive from his first orgasm.

                “Do you want me to stop?” Reyes asks, a wicked gleam in his eyes.

                “Don’t you dare! But I don’t know how much help I’m going to be. I still can’t move my legs,” he answers, and Reyes throws his head back laughing. Atlas grins, draping his arms over his shoulders.

                “We could take this to the bedroom,” he suggests, leaning forward to press a quick kiss against Atlas’ lips. He hums in agreement, and Reyes tightens his arms around him, standing up. Atlas gasps as the angle shifts, wrapping his legs around his waist. Reyes chuckles, dodging around the coffee table and awkwardly nudging the bedroom door open. The bed is unmade and he lays Atlas down on the sheets, stepping back. Atlas whines at the loss of contact, and Reyes grins, his hands drifting to his thighs to spread his legs apart.

                “Are you gonna fuck me, or are you just gonna stand there and stare?” Atlas snarks, and Reyes laughs, thumb rubbing circles on his inner thigh.

                “Patience, Atlas. I’m admiring the view. It’s a good one,” he replies. Atlas goes red at that, earning another laugh as Reyes leans down, pressing a kiss to his inner thigh. He looks up at Atlas and winks before flicking his tongue over his clit. He gasps, leaning up on his elbows. Reyes moves his tongue slowly, almost languidly, lapping up the wetness. Atlas whines, bucking his hips, and Reyes hums in amusement, the vibrations going straight to his clit and making him moan. Reyes shifts, one hand still on one of Atlas’ thighs, spreading him open for easier access, but the other reaches up, fumbling for his hand. He links their fingers together as he wraps his lips around his clit and sucks. Atlas arches off the bed, whimpering, and Reyes pulls back with a laugh.

                He kisses his way up the smooth planes of Atlas’ stomach, paying special attention to his scars. There’s one on his hip from a knife fight on Omega, pale and jagged, one on his side from basic, long and barely visible, a handful of shrapnel scars spanning his stomach from a Remnant fight on Eos, and the twin scars on his chest from surgery. Reyes presses kisses to each of them before trailing kisses up his neck and finally pressing a kiss to his lips. He breaks away, resting his forehead against Atlas’, a fond smile on his face.

                “Are you ready?” he murmurs, and Atlas nods in response, drawing him back in for another kiss. Reyes slides inside Atlas, groaning at the wet heat. He gives him another moment to adjust before he starts to move his hips in slow, shallow thrusts, peppering kisses across his jawline. It isn’t long before Atlas is meeting his thrusts, his free hand tangled in Reyes’ hair. He keeps up a constant stream of incoherent begging, and Reyes’ thrusts grow erratic. Atlas comes again, nails raking down Reyes’ back. Reyes tips over the edge seconds later, clinging to him.

                He eases out slowly before flopping on his back next to Atlas, one arm across his stomach. Atlas finally lets go of his hand, curling up against his side. Reyes reaches across him, fumbling, and tugs the blanket across them. The silence stretches on, comfortable, and Atlas is nearly asleep when Reyes finally speaks.

                “I think I love you. And I know I should have told you about everything a long time ago,” he says, voice quiet in the stillness.

                “It’s okay. It’s...it’s not easy, coming face-to-face with that, but I get it. But, Reyes, how long until other people find out? Kaetus is going to start investigating when he gets better. Sloane has other people. If they find out you’re the Charlatan…” he says, trailing off. Reyes sides, leaning up on one elbow, brushing Atlas’ hair out of his face.

                “If they find me, I’ll deal with it when I must,” he says, voice gentle. Atlas shakes his head stubbornly, reaching up to cup his face.

                “You don’t have to. You could come with me,” he tells him, insistent, sitting up.

                “And what about Kadara?” Reyes asks, a faint smile on his face, almost indulgent.

                “You could put Keema on the throne, pull the strings from the _Tempest_. We have encrypted channels, and we could put up additional security measures. SAM could help with that. I’d feel a lot better, knowing you’re there with me. Even if someone does find out, you won’t be on Kadara, and the Charlatan will still be pulling the strings. Maybe it will discredit them even more,” he says, half-pleading. He isn’t sure if he can stand the thought of Reyes on Kadara, a target on his back the second Kaetus is up and walking again. He realizes, suddenly, that he’s sick of the planet. Before, he might have liked the settle here, put down roots. He knows eventually that he’ll probably feel that way again, because Eos is too hot and Voeld is too cold and Havarl isn't for their people.

                “Atlas,” he sighs, running his hand through his hair.

                “At least think about it,” he begs, and Reyes sighs again, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his forehead.

                “I’ll go talk to Keema,” he says, slipping out of the bed. It is a sign that he wants this, too, that he doesn’t want to leave Atlas any more than he wants Atlas to leave him. He opens the dresser, tugging on a pair of clean boxers. He tosses another pair to Atlas.

                “I’m not sure how long it’ll take. I’ll be making the call in the living room. You’re more than welcome to anything here,” he says, leaning down to kiss him again before stepping outside. Atlas throws the blanket off, tugs the boxers on, and opens up his omni-tool. He has a half dozen messages from Liam and Cora, asking where he is.

                AR: i’m okay.

                AR: i’m with reyes.

                LK: did you two do it?

                AR: …

                AR: yeah.

                AR: and boy oh boy do i have some news for you.

                LK: spill the beans.

                AR: remember the charlatan?

                LK: yeah?

                AR: i just slept with him.

                LK: you slept with the charlatan and reyes?

                AR: in a sense.

                LK: wait a second

                LK: is he?

                LK: you seriously aren’t telling me that

                LK: are you?

                LK: oh my god

                AR: yeah

                AR: it’s a wild ride

                AR: oh, and sloane kelly is dead.

                AR: oh, and we can send down an outpost to the site we found.

                LK: jesus, atlas.

                LK: looks like you’ve fallen into bed with a powerful ally

                AR: yeah, well

                AR: at least the sex was really good

                LK: really?

                LK: tell me about it!

                AR: i came twice

                AR: he was very sweet

                AR: he made a dick joke

                AR: and im actually disappointed you haven’t made it yet

                AR: it was about my name

                AR: it’s still funny

                AR: i think i’m going to stay here tonight

                AR: but i did ask him to come with me

                AR: when we leave kadara

                AR: i don’t want to risk anyone finding out

                AR: i don’t want him to have a target on his back

                LK: well we’re gonna need a bigger bed with the way you sprawl out

                AR: i think i can arrange that

                LK: you realize tann is going to be pissed, right?

                AR: tann can go fuck himself.

                AR: besides i don’t even know if reyes is going to be joining us

                AR: he’s talking to his contacts right now

                AR: think i hear him coming back

                AR: i’ll check in with you later

                Reyes pushes the bedroom door open, looking slightly disgruntled and still disheveled. He climbs into bed wordlessly, seemingly ignorant of the anticipation he’s left Atlas in.

                “Well?” Atlas prompts, curling up against him. There’s a half second before a smile blooms across his face.

                “It looks like I’m yours, Pathfinder. Keema wants us to make regular stops on Kadara, but I’m sure we can arrange that,” he says. Atlas lets out a gleeful, disbelieving laugh, draping himself across Reyes.

                “Fuck yeah. I’m so glad you said yes, Reyes,” he murmurs. Reyes squeezes him closer. In the morning, they’ll have to pack his things, but right now he’s content to curl around Atlas as they drift closer to sleep.

* * *

Atlas wakes up in the middle of the night, the memory of Sloane’s face as she fell bright in his mind. He’s disoriented when he does, isn’t sure if it’s being woken suddenly or if it’s being in a strange place, but seconds later his stomach heaves and he takes off running through the small apartment. SAM guides him to the bathroom, and he barely makes it to the toilet in time. He spends a rough few minutes on his hands and knees, voiding everything that’s left in his stomach. He jumps when he feels a hand on his back, but it’s only Reyes, murmuring softly.

He rocks back on his heels, leaning against Reyes for support. He still feels nauseous, but there’s nothing left in his stomach. He groans, and Reyes helps him stand, guiding him to the couch. He sits down and Reyes disappears into the kitchen, bringing him a glass of water before disappearing into the bedroom to grab a blanket. Atlas can’t bring himself to take more than a sip of the water, but he wraps himself up in the blanket and curls up on the corner of the couch. Reyes drops a kiss on his forehead, then heads into the bedroom, opening his omni-tool interface as he goes.

RV: Liam?

RV: Are you awake?

LK: I’m here.

RV: Atlas has gotten sick.

RV: I’d like to get him to the _Tempest_ , if not to the doctor on board.

RV: I know I’m probably panicking.

RV: But I’d rather be safe than sorry.

RV: It could be a disease from Andromeda, a new one.

RV: Our immune systems aren’t adjusted yet.

RV: Could you come and get him?

LK: Reyes

LK: Don’t tell me you’re passing on all the hard boyfriend duties to me

LK: Just because I was here first.

RV: Hardly. I’d like nothing more than to tote the Pathfinder through the market.

RV: But I don’t think I can carry him that far.

RV: He’s a heavy man.

LK: I’ll wake Lexi up and head over.

RV: I’ll pack my bag while we wait, I suppose.

RV: [Reyes Vidal sent coordinates.]

LK: So you’re seriously coming with us?

RV: It was the eyes.

RV: I couldn’t say no to him.

RV: But I never wanted to, either.

LK: He does have a mean puppy dog face.

LK: See you in a few minutes, Reyes.

* * *

                Atlas is surprised to see Liam walk through the door, but that doesn’t stop him from burrowing against his chest as soon as he can. He’s tired, but his stomach has settled in the time it took Liam to get there. He’s surprised to see Reyes walk out of the bedroom with a bag in his hand, too, but he can’t help the weak grin that spreads across his face either.

                “Come on, big guy. I’ll carry you home,” Liam says, scooping him up. Reyes smiles at the two of them, glancing around his apartment one last time.

                “I can walk!” Atlas protests, but he clings just a little too tight, so Liam just scoffs. The marketplace is empty- there’s a handful of people milling around in front of Kralla’s Song, but it’s easy to avoid them.

                Lexi is waiting for them on the _Tempest_. Liam finally sets Atlas down, lets him climb down the ladder to the med-bay by himself. Reyes trails after them both, bag still in his hand. He drops it outside the med-bay, moving to stand next to Liam as Atlas takes a seat on one of the beds. Lexi launches into a litany of questions about his symptoms, and finally draws a vial of blood.

                “This might take awhile,” she says, apologetically, so they settle in to wait.

* * *

The only sound in the med-bay is the humming of the ship. Atlas sits on the bed, tucked into the crook of Reyes’ arm, while Liam paces. Atlas is half asleep before Lexi turns to them, her mouth set in a hard line, and he rouses himself blearily for the news.

“It’s just food poisoning, isn’t it?” he asks, a wry look on his face.

“Not exactly,” Lexi says, glancing at Liam.

“Well? What is it? Don’t keep us waiting,” Reyes says, impatiently. He’s all hard lines of worry right now, his arm tightening around Atlas. He’ll apologize later for snapping at her, but right now the hard pit of worry in his stomach means social graces is far from a priority.

“Very well. According to the tests, Atlas, you’re pregnant. I’m assuming you didn’t know that testosterone doesn’t act as a contraceptive in transgender men. You’re approximately seven weeks along, and shouldn’t start showing until the twelfth week at the earliest,” she says. Atlas goes still, glancing down at his stomach. He should have looked it up, shouldn’t have been so careless, but condoms were in short supply in Heleus and he’d thought his hormone therapy would keep him safe. Hell, the doctors should have told him when he started testosterone. Or maybe they did, and in the space between eighteen and twenty-two he’d forgotten.

“What now?” Liam asks, his arms crossed over his chest, glancing worriedly at Atlas.

“Well, we have a few options. If Atlas has no wish to carry the child to term, I would be more than willing to go over those options with him. If he wishes to carry to term, he’ll need to temporarily stop his hormone therapy. Oh, and Atlas? If you need time to decide, that’s fine. It isn’t fair to expect a decision like this to be made immediately. I do suggest going off of testosterone until your decision is made, however,” she says, hands clasped together in front of her.

“Yeah, I’m gonna need some time. Go ahead and take me off of T for now,” he says, taking a deep breath. She nods, makes a few notes to herself, and shows them out of the med-bay as she pulls up her omni-tool.

“If you find your morning sickness unbearable, come back to see me. There are a few anti-nausea medications we can try,” she says. He throws his hand up over his shoulder to let her know he heard her, and as soon as the door shuts behind them he sinks onto the couch.

                They fall asleep in silence. Atlas isn’t sure if they’re leaving the discussion up to him or if they’re processing the information themselves, but eventually he manages to drift off. Tomorrow, Liam and Reyes will return to the Kadaran apartment to make one last sweep of the place, and to collect Atlas’ armor. They’ll head into the badlands to get the Nomad, too. Atlas will stay in bed, only leaving for trips to the kitchen and to the bathroom. Later, he will sit on his bed, alone in his bedroom, his palm pressed against his stomach, the sun slanting through the window and lighting the room up gold.

                Atlas had never thought about pregnancy or children. Hadn’t ever thought about having a family, really, especially not since he woke up in Andromeda, six hundred years away from everything he had known. But sitting there, eyes on the Kadaran horizon, he realizes he wants it anyway.

                It’s a risk, bringing a baby into the world in the middle of the conflict with the Archon, but Atlas has always known when risks are worth taking, and this one definitely is.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing it. Feel free to leave a comment down below if you did- I do my best to respond to each comment, and even if I don't, comments are definitely appreciated. Apologies for any weird formatting issues in regards to spacing and indentation- sometimes ao3 gets fussy when copying and pasting stuff from Word.
> 
> Disclaimer: While I wrote Atlas using my experiences as a transgender man, not all experiences are universal, and even these are exaggerated. If anything in Atlas' attitude or story offends anyone, I apologize. This was, in part, an outlet for me to explore my feelings in regards to my transness. As a result, Atlas and this fic are personal, and not meant to be taken generally.


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